


Stop fidgeting! - Mitchell/Rem Dogg - Bad Education

by CurlyCarla



Category: Bad Education (UK TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 21:45:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2285520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurlyCarla/pseuds/CurlyCarla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remmie has to cope with Mitchell sat on his lap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop fidgeting! - Mitchell/Rem Dogg - Bad Education

“Suck my dick Rem Dogg.” Mitchell shot behind him, in response to a particularly graphic description of his mum.  
“Mm, no thanks. What about your dad? OH WAIT!” Rem Dogg chuckled. The rest of the class ignored their antics, as usual. They were used to this on a Monday morning. Neither of them got a date over the weekend, and took it out on each other on Monday.   
Mitchell stood up abruptly and turned to Rem Dogg. A flicker of something flashed across Rem Dogg’s face, but it was gone too quickly to tell what it was.   
“What’s the problem Mitchell?” Alfie’s tired, hungover voice came from the front of the class, where he was, once again, slumped pitifully on his desk after a night of drinking alone in his room and crying.  
“Nothing sir. My seat’s just uncomfortable.” Mitchell called back, smirking.  
“So are your family reunions.” Rem Dogg jibed.  
Mitchell raised a finger to his chin and faked a contemplative look. “Where oh where will I get a more comfortable seat?”  
Too late, Rem Dogg realised what was happening, but by that time, Mitchell had already sat on Rem Dogg.  
“Twat, get off!” Rem Dogg struggled underneath Mitchell, but couldn't force him off.  
“Ah, this is better. Might just stay here for the lesson.”  
After about 5 minutes of struggling and shoving, Rem Dogg finally gave up. Slowly, the rest of the class fell asleep, as it was Hangover Monday. But Mitchell was determined to make this hour misery for Rem Dogg. So he fidgeted.  
Left, right, down into Remmie’s legs, back into his stomach, swiveling himself around so his legs swung over the side of the wheelchair. All the time, Rem Dogg was protesting, but acting cool. The truth was, the pressure was getting to him. After a particularly vigorous wiggle from Mitchell, though Rem Dogg would call it a grind, he felt his body... Reacting. He blushed furiously, and renewed his efforts to get Mitchell OFF of him, but Mitchell wasn’t having any of it.  
“Mitchell, you need to get OFF.” Rem Dogg muttered. “Now!”  
“Oh sorry, am I annoying you?” Mitchell said innocently, shifting again, into a very unfortunate place. Rem Dogg gasped quietly, not loud enough for Mitchell to hear and realise what was up... So to speak.   
“Mitchell, get off!” Rem Dogg gritted his teeth, gripping the arms of his chair. At this point, the... Events going on in his trousers were becoming increasingly har- more difficult to ignore.   
Oh my God, if Mitchell realises I am NOT going to hear the end of this...  
“Why should I? You’re so comfy!” Mitchell laughed.  
I’m going to have to tell him. Oh my God, oh my fucking GOD.  
“Um, Mitchell. You really need to get off. Please.” Rem Dogg muttered quietly, pleadingly.   
“Give me one good reason why I should.” Mitchell challenged.  
“Well, your fidgeting. It’s um... Well it’s um... Uh.”   
Mitchell’s phone vibrated in his back pocket, adding to the long list of sensations that were going on down there. Mitchell twisted to get his phone out, unintentionally, and apparently without realising, brushing against Rem Dogg’s growing hardness. Rem Dogg’s breathing stuttered, his fingers curling into fists. Mitchell unlocked his phone. It was a text from Stephen.   
You’re giving him a boner, now shut up and let me SLEEP.  
Rem Dogg, who read the text through the bend in Mitchell’s arm, leaned back in his chair, his face beetroot red. He could almost feel Mitchell’s grin fill the room.  
Mitchell made a big deal of putting his phone back in his pocket. This time, Rem Dogg was sure he brushed it on purpose. To his horror, Mitchell didn’t get up. But for the first time in 10 minutes, he was sitting still.   
It didn’t last of course.   
A few minutes later, Mitchell began to shift in Rem Dogg’s lap; not as vigorously as before, but this time had a point to it. He knew what he was doing. He strategically positioned his hips so that they slotted over one of Rem Dogg’s legs. And then he moved back.   
Shit. Shit shit shit. But before his brain could form a coherent thought, Mitchell’s hips rolled into his crotch. Rem Dogg hissed, fingers flexing. Meanwhile, Mitchell had the smallest of smirks on his face, managing to keep a straight face. Since Rem Dogg’s face was hidden behind Mitchell’s back, at least that was one less thing for him to worry about. Rem Dogg was sure by this point that his erection was very much obvious, even if it hadn’t been pointed out by Stephen, the bitch. But at this rate, the erection wouldn’t be around for much longer. And Mitchell knew it. Rem Dogg angled Mitchell’s ear down towards his mouth and hissed “Listen you fucker. If you’re going to do this, here, now... This better not be the last fucking time.”  
Mitchell’s mouth curled “Oh, trust me. I’m doing this again.” Rem Dogg released his head, and put his hands on Mitchell’s hips, pulling him down and further in towards him.   
A few more minutes passed with Mitchell discreetly but, for the love of God, effectively grinding into Rem Dogg, and Remmie knew he couldn’t hold it for much longer, however hard he tried. He was panting quietly, fists clenched, eyes squeezed shut. He bought Mitchell’s ear back down to his mouth, and whispered “I ain’t gonna last much longer.”  
“Got it.” Mitchell shifted forward in Rem Dogg’s lap, and put his hand behind him, palming Remmie through his damp tracksuit bottoms, and, infuriatingly slowly, tugging on his length. Rem Dogg’s breath came in short, ragged pants. Heat pooled in his abdomen, and he was gone.  
He bit down on Mitchell’s shoulder to keep him from yelling, but through the gaps a whimpered “Mitchell” came from his lips.  
Mitchell’s hand twisted round the back of Remmie’s head, which was leant on his shoulder. He stroked the hair on the nape of his neck, before standing up, and putting Rem Dogg’s rucksack in his lap to cover the wet patch. Remmie looked up at Mitchell, a look of disappointment in his eyes. Mitchell bent down and whispered “You’re coming round mine after school, okay?” and sat back down in his own seat without waiting for an answer.  
Mitchell rested his head on his arms, and tried to doze off, but right before he closed his eyes, he saw Stephen wink at him, to which he responded with a middle finger, and turned over.


End file.
